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Life seems to be a matrix of choices. How we decide to choose is our own problem. I think for the people who realize this, life becomes a lot more fragile. Sometimes I get lost in my own head for hours just because of all the millions upon trillions of different scenarios, lives, minds, and forks in the road. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how other people make choices. It’s not that complicated, really. We’re conditioned to make choices in the manner that we do, it seems. It gives a bit of predictability to life. The room for error decreases the more you get to know a person. It seems that the number of choices can be limited to a few thousand instead of a billion. What does it really matter if you can predict, though? Should it stop me from acting, from socializing, from following my fucked up mind? I really don’t believe in fate. Destiny is an easy way out for people too afraid to realize their agency. The moment you open your mind to the possibility of self-control of the future is the same moment you realize how incredibly important and at the same time incredibly unimportant everything is. Nothing and everything matters. It’s all in the words, it’s all in the moves. In 2,000 years history will have been decided by an uncountable number of different choices made by an infinite number of people. Take some fucking ownership of your life. Or sit and freak out about it for a while. That’s what I do. The longer we sit and lie dormant, the less of an impact on anything we make, which is more of an impact. I’m talking in circles and making no sense. I’m writing to get things off my chest that I’m not writing because I don’t know who reads this. It’s all in the words, in the thoughts, in the moves, in the emotions. Emotions are another thing altogether. Love is a powerful thing, but that doesn’t mean it actually exists.

I haven’t written in forever. I feel like I have lots to say but not really sure how to say it. I guess I don’t let people in. I guess maybe I should. I guess this is maybe not the place to let it all out.

I’m 25 now. Weird. I feel like I’ve been getting noticed on the street though. I always thought when I turned 25 I would have everything figured out, where I was going, etc. I’m sure I already said this before. Here I am, 25, with nothing figured out. I don’t really think anyone has anything figured out though. I’m pretty sure if someone says they do, they’re really just lying to themselves and others.

I want the world to stay mouldable. I hate when things start to harden, to cement themselves in place. I think it’s an immaturity I don’t want to let go of. I don’t want life to solidify or become fixed. The only fixed thing I want is for things to stay not fixed. Fixed as in static, not repaired. I think once something is fixed it’s much harder to repair.

Summer seems to be going by quickly. I’m trying to take tame to enjoy it, but it’s hard when work demands so much. I’m not even full-time, but I feel so crazy half the time. It’s good though. Keeps me busy and my brain engaged. I think that’s about it for now.

I ran around the very lake that burned me a week ago. I’m metaphorically feeling the same way at the moment. My hamstrings and calves are sore, but I must say it feels good to have done some sort of exercise. 3.2 miles, though, without running in a long time, was a bit for me to jump right into. Dance does not really train to be aerobic, although I wish it did.

I beached for a while too. It was a little windy, so I didn’t stay for too long but I started to realize something while I was lying there getting poored down on by UV rays. I want to go away to the wilderness. I want to go to the north shore, see the stars, eat from a fire. I want to escape urban life for a day or two or three and wander in the woods until I can’t remember what it’s like not to be able to see Ursa major, the big dipper, Orion’s belt. I want to feel like that again.

The longer I live, the more complex everything seems to be. When you’re 5 you love your parents, your siblings, your dog, the earth, the sky, the water, you love everything. When do we stop? How does love stop being a given? I think I know. Do you?

I have to write. I have to write. I have to write. It’s been too long since I wrote anything with real substance. I’m not promising anything with this post, but at least I’ll give it a real college (post grad) try. It’ll be my goal for the rest of the summer to post at LEAST twice a week. Haha, fat chance.

Yesterday I spent a majority of my day at one of the Lake Calhoun beaches. This is a picture of the skyline you see from the beach. Pretty, no? Leave it to Minneapolis to create a small group of lakes right next to it’s downtown. Lying out in my new Sauvage boy-shorts swimsuit for hours I probably got too much sun. Consequently, here I am this morning, the color of a ripe tomato. I don’t usually tan, or burn, or anything. I just freckle. I guess yesterday proved me wrong. Thank you Lake Calhoun, thank you.

Today one of my favorite people is heading off for a summer in Europe. It’s going to be weird without him here. Since Elizabeth started going to Spain, the people I care about tend to rush off to Europe for the summer. Maybe something is telling me that I should really travel. I want to go to Italy, France, Germany, England, Scotland. I want to see where my ancestors came from, and I want to do it soon; before I get locked into some corporate machine, unable to escape for longer than a week or two at a time.

I have some horribly exciting news. I cant quite spill it yet, but I might be doing some really amazing things in November. The more I find things out, the more I will be able to spill. Let’s just say, for now, international dancing experience?